


Affection Is For Losers

by guilty_pleasures_abound



Series: First of His Kind [3]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Adult Dib (Invader Zim), Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Cowgirl Position, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Hermaphrodites, Irken Empire (Invader Zim), Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Miscommunication, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilty_pleasures_abound/pseuds/guilty_pleasures_abound
Summary: They were mortal enemies. Zim was comfortable with that, confident with that. Then the human had to ruin everything by getting all...talland...good-smelling.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: First of His Kind [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611292
Comments: 10
Kudos: 284





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This series was just supposed to be porn without plot, but then I went and threw in a WHOLE DANG BUNCH OF PLOT AND UNIVERSE LORE because apparently I can't help myself.
> 
> Also I love the incomplete episodes so you'll see reference to [The Trial](https://zim.fandom.com/wiki/The_Trial_\(Transcript\)) in here, go read the script if you haven't already, it's real damn good.
> 
> Also also, this takes place partly as lead up to Cold War Pacts and the time immediately after it, but before Make Room For Me, timeline-wise.
> 
> Thanks for the cheerleading and beta-ing, [nschimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skullsulker/pseuds/nschimm), your input, as always, was immeasurably valuable. ❤

He wasn't sure exactly when it happened. At a guess, it was somewhere between Dib's final growth spurt, and his shift away from those artificial-smelling "body sprays" that he had worn religiously throughout half of their high skool years.

All Zim knew was that it hit a point where "smelly worm baby" and "Dib-stink" became vexingly untrue insults. Not that that stopped Zim from using them, of course—old habits die hard and all of that—but every utterance of them started to remind him that as of late, Dib was far from smelly, nor was he a disgusting worm baby any longer. It was infuriating, really; he still smelled like _Dib_ , but that nasty, sweaty, sour _kid_ smell was gone, replaced with something that was strangely richer, strangely... alluring.

He'd nearly hopped into his Voot and driven himself into the sun the first time he'd found himself with that thought, completely disgusted that it had even crossed his otherwise spectacular mind. A _human_ , alluring?! And not just any human, but the infuriating, insufferable _Dib?!_ Surely there was something wrong with his antennae, or his PAK processors were malfunctioning.

They weren't, he thoroughly checked, leaving him absolutely furious at the stupid human for daring to get all... tall and nice smelling. It simply should not be allowed. It made him feel... weird. It made his body do things it shouldn't, things it never had before.

The most alarming was that it made his splook ache, made it stiffen with blood and become slick with lubrication and refuse to slide back into his body whenever Dib's stupid, tall, delicious-scented body got far too close to Zim's. (Much to Zim's frustration, getting far too close had been a habit of Dib's practically since they met.) He was saved from the utter humiliation of _Dib_ noticing only by the grace of his invader uniform tunic being blessedly long enough to cover the evidence of his traitorous body's completely mystifying reaction.

A reaction he angrily ignored for as long as he could, until a far too up-close-and-personal fight with Dib ( _damn_ that insufferable human, costing him a brilliant robotic goat in the process) left him aching and squirming hours afterward with that unnamed need he didn't know what to do with. It wasn't _fair_ , it wasn't _right_ ; Dib had no business making him feel this way. It was ridiculous, even the human's _sweat_ smelled good now, and the stupid _sixteen inches_ of height he had over Zim really, _really_ did not help the part of Zim's brain that was hardwired to want to please Tallers that he respected. And despite his internal protest about it, he did respect Dib; he had always proven himself to be a worthy nemesis. But that did not excuse what he was doing to Zim, and his traitorous, uncooperative spook!

In a bout of frustration, he shoved his hand down his uniform trousers and wrapped his grip around it. He didn't know what his plan was, in that moment; maybe try to squeeze it into submission, or literally force it back inside the slit between his legs where it belonged, but the shiver of pleasure that tripped up his spine knocked all of the half-baked ideas completely out of his head.

He couldn't fight it if he tried, couldn't prevent his hand from its exploratory stroke, couldn't stop following the electric feeling of sliding his grip from base to tip and back again. He had no clue what he was doing, no clue what the build of pleasure was leading him toward, he just knew it felt _good_ and he _needed it_. Then a burst of intensity that he swore threw his PAK offline, and Zim came back to his body with a renewed sense of panic, along with a very messy lap full of clear fluid that had apparently come from his splook.

He was sure he was dying. There _had_ to be something wrong, there was no other explanation; first he found himself drawn to Dib, now his splook was acting strangely and expelling new liquids?! Earth was full of germs, surely one had finally sank its teeth into him and these were the symptoms of the disease. He ran every diagnostic he could think of, both on his PAK and his organic body; he analyzed the mysterious new fluid, he monitored the blood flow into his splook. He explored every possibility, he researched every known illness that had ever been documented to be strong enough to circumvent an Irken PAK’s exceptional immune system.

Finally, with a feeling of dread so heavy it felt like a planet was sinking into his squeedlyspooch, there was only one conclusion left to draw; he was the first Irken in four millennia to experience an orgasm.

It should have been impossible. It _was_ impossible, as far as he had been aware, but somehow it wasn’t. The peak of pleasure, the release of fluid that was full of cells very clearly designed to carry Zim’s DNA into a willing partner, the warm ache in his splook leading to that release; he knew that most organic life in the universe went through a mating process, that they engaged in reproductive behaviors, and he knew that Irkens had become an outlier in that regard—the control brains phasing out sexual desire and organic reproduction over the centuries in favor of designer smeets, their genetics perfectly mixed from a variety of Irkens and gestated in incubation tubes. In short, by Zim’s very design, he should be unable to experience sexual desire, let alone climax.

And somehow, worse than the revelation itself, was the realization that he didn’t know what to do. Even if he _could_ contact the Tallest to explain his situation, the idea of seeking guidance for something so... _~~defective~~ personal_ filled him with deep unease. (He’d been determinately trying to ignore the fact that the Irken Armada had been completely radio silent and unreachable since the Florpus Incident; they were merely experiencing technical difficulties, that was all! Perhaps they were dominating a part of space with many electrical storms, and it affected communication channels! _They! Were! Fine!_ )

Which left him with nowhere else to put his fear, his frustration, his absolute _anger_ at the whole situation but back to the origin of all of his problems; _Dib._

And, okay, maybe the giant robot spider was a bit… _overzealous_ , but Zim wanted to make a point! He wanted to look down at Dib’s stupid face from the cockpit of that metallic arachnid and see the _fear_ in his eyes; maybe if Zim was lucky, the dumb human would empty his bowels with fright! And to top it all off, Zim would cocoon the squirmy Dib-worm in webbing and squish him into pulp! _That_ would stop his infuriating scent and stupid height from running amok in Zim's life.

Then it came to the actual execution of his plan, and it had to be said; Irkens didn't believe in a higher power. The highest power they had were the Control Brains and the Tallest, and though they were strong and powerful and worthy of worship, they were by no means gods. So when the damn robot spider up and developed _self-awareness_ , another species might have wondered what they had done to deserve such punishment from a cosmic entity. Especially when the result was the necessity for Zim and Dib to work together to bring it down.

It wasn't the first time they had done so; that revolting little bologna fiasco, Tak, that horrifying foray into the nightmare realm in Dib's stupidly big head. That did not make it easier to stomach when they were jammed together in Zim's Voot, Dib's ridiculous, long limbs far too gangly to fit comfortably anymore, and his stupid, delicious, _stupid_ scent far too distracting.

Still, they managed it in the end.

"Do me a favor, Zim," Dib grumbled, the both of them sitting in the dark on the beach as the remains of the spider robot burned a few dozen miles off the coast. "Stop making shit that can develop a mind of its own."

"Feh," Zim huffed dismissively. "And what makes you think I would do any sort of favor for you, human?"

It didn't matter that Zim had come to the same conclusion about staying away from potentially-free-will-developing robots somewhere between nearly getting smacked out of the sky by one of the spider robot's eight limbs, and being shoulder-to-shoulder with Dib in the belly of the beast, both of their arms elbow-deep in biomechanical viscera as they tried to shut it down.

"Because it never works out for you, in case you hadn't noticed," Dib had the gall to snark back, frowning at him with a glare in the low light. Zim's exceptional Irken eyes allowed him to see the human well with minimal effort, so it did not go unnoticed when Dib winced, his black eye and split lip apparently unhappy with the effort of his displeased expression.

"Lies!" Zim barked anyway, pointing an accusatory finger at him that Dib smacked away from his face with a scowl. “As usual, human _filth_ , you know nothing of what you speak!”

“I know I’m getting real damn tired of cleaning up your messes, Zim!”

“My _messes?!_ MY _MESSES?!”_ In a blink Zim was _livid,_ hopping to his feet in restless anger. Today had been crap, on top of dookie, on top of _gashlorp_ filth, and the stupid Dib dare talk to him this way, on top of everything else?! How _dare_ this filthy earth pig imply anything but Zim’s greatness? “Zim does not make messes! Zim makes _chaos and destruction!_ I make amazing, ingenious plans for your inevitable doom, you pathetic human!”

“You keep telling yourself that, Zim,” Dib sneered, turning his torso toward Zim, one hand pressed on the sand for balance as he leaned forward, glasses glinting in the low light. “Guess it’s better than accepting that you’re a _shitty_ fucking invader, and your Tallest don’t give a flying fuck about you or your mission because they know just how much you suck.”

“You don’t deserve to speak of my Tallest!” Zim screeched, “You miserable, disgusting—”

Zim didn’t even realize he had pulled his hand back until it was flying toward Dib’s face, his open hand making a shocking _crack!_ against Dib’s cheek that made the human shout in shock and pain, head whipping to the side.

"What the _hell?!"_

Zim's palm stung, even with the protective layer of his glove, but the exhilaration of hitting Dib—of causing direct pain to the idiot human who drove him crazy at every turn, who interfered in every aspect of Zim's life, who made Zim ache and desire in terrifyingly frightening ways—was so damn cathartic that Zim raised his hand again in an instant.

He was aiming for the bruise around Dib's eye this time—he wanted the stupid human _howling_ with pain if he could absolutely manage it, he wanted him writhing in the sand like the worm he was—but infuriatingly, outrageously, the stupid, terrible human had the indecency to block him, his stupid, gross, big hand engulfing Zim's wrist and holding tight, his teeth bared in an angry snarl. Frustratingly, Dib deftly caught Zim's other hand a moment later, holding his arms down by his sides.

"Let me go!" Zim shouted, trying to wrest himself away and out of Dib's grasp, panic closing in on him now on top of his anger, making his heart race and the impulse to use his PAK legs to get away prickle down his spine.

"You stupid insect!" Dib yanked him closer, Zim's feet sliding through the sand alarmingly easily, putting them barely a half foot apart. "You could be so much more than this!"

That was definitely not what Zim was expecting Dib to say; and the vagueness of it brought him up short, staring at Dib's angry face silently for a long moment.

"I... what?"

Dib's face began to get pink, his grip around Zim's wrists squeezing tighter, and Zim's gaze caught on the visible swallow of Dib's throat before the human growled in frustration.

"God, if you ever tell anyone I've said this I'll drop-kick your puny ass, but you're so fucking brilliant, Zim, and you're _wasting it._ "

Zim's translator was malfunctioning, had to be. There was no way Dib had just complimented him, that was legitimately impossible.

_"What?"_ he repeated, staring aghast at Dib's increasingly flushing face. "What did you just say to me?"

"I said you're brilliant, okay!" The pink color was creeping over Dib's ears now, and Zim could feel a fine tremble in Dib's grip.

"That!" Dib released one of Zim's hands to gesture wildly toward the glow of fire out on the ocean. _"That_ was a rolling dumpster fire of a mess, but I'd be a fucking liar if I said it wasn't an amazing machine. You build such amazing things, Zim, you could do so much if you put that energy into making something that could help mankind instead of destroying it."

_"Help? Help?!_ I am an Irken invader! I am a beacon of Irken might and destruction, I—!"

"You've been here for a decade, Zim!" Dib interrupted. "And you haven't heard from the Tallest in eight years, who are you trying to invade for?"

_"Lies!"_ Panic clawed at Zim's throat again; Dib didn't know that, he _couldn't_ know that! "I hear from my Tallest all the time! I—I talked to them just yesterday!"

"I know you didn't, Zim, you think I don't track your transmissions?"

"You can't be doing it well, then, Dib-idiot!"

"Just stop it!" Dib gripped his shoulder with his free hand, giving the Irken a little shake that jolted a startled gasp from Zim's throat. "Stop it! Just stop and _think_ for one fucking second, Zim! Your skills could _change the world_ , you could invent things that could put your name in the mouths of everyone on planet Earth, you could be more praised for your inventions than my dad! You want people to revere you? You want love and attention?"

"No!"

"No?"

"NO!" Zim dug his fingers into Dib's forearm, his other hand twisting in Dib's grip. "Not from you! I don't need it from you!"

Dib's expression softened unexpectedly, giving Zim emotional whiplash that froze him in place in Dib's hold.

"Take it from me, Zim," Dib's hands slowly loosened, letting Zim keep his balance so he didn't fall over when Dib finally let him go, "chasing the approval of someone who will never truly give it to you only makes you suffer."

"Shut _up!"_ Zim clenched his fists to mask their tremble. "You don't know anything!"

He didn't give Dib a chance to say anything else, his PAK legs taking him away from that disgusting look of pity on the human's face.

***

The Massive was nowhere to be found. Zim hacked every navigation system he could, every space outpost, every asteroid diner, space gift shop, he even risked hacking Foodcourtia; anywhere that might have a record that the Massive had passed by, anywhere that might have news of their newest conquest.

He did not find the Massive. He found a galaxy without the Irken Empire.

It had gone more quietly than anyone expected, apparently. With the disappearance of the Massive, Irk was left with few mobile troops and no Tallest; and without the figureheads the Control Brains relied on to instill a sense of order and hierarchy, it had been fairly easy for a rebel group called The Resisty to liberate the planets under Irken control. After that, it was a domino effect; The Resisty grew with each reclaimed Irken territory, and every Irken caught in the crossfire was given an option—return to Irk, integrate into the new Galactic United Republic, or die.

Every Irken, it seemed, except Zim.

He really was alone.

***

He watched the earth boy sleep. Dib had always been a weirdly heavy sleeper, which was usually advantageous. It certainly was now.

His blankets were pulled up to his shoulders, curled up on his side, and his breathing was audible, his lips parted in sleep. He looked... soft. Vulnerable.

If Zim wanted to, he could rip his throat out, or infect him with poison. He could get his shrink ray from his base and make Dib the size of an ant, squish him between his fingers. He could inject him with a paralytic then rip his guts out, watch the human's eyes get wide with terror before scrunching closed in agony.

He could do any of those things. He could spend all night listing all the horrible things he could do to Dib while he was so foolishly sleeping. Except he never would. He had never been able to, even when Dib had been at his absolute mercy.

He really was a shitty invader.

Zim grimaced, hugging tightly to himself as he approached the bed with quiet steps. Before he lost his nerve, he opened the side of his PAK, a container falling out and into his waiting hand seamlessly.

Softly, carefully, he opened the lid, gathered some of the smooth gel inside onto his fingertips, and began to apply it gently to the bruise still coloring Dib's eye and cheek.

As predicted, Dib was dead to the world, only giving little snuffles here and there and cheek twitching once or twice but otherwise remaining fast asleep as Zim finished his work.

He nodded to himself when the gel was spread thinly and evenly across the bruise, and he even managed to dab a little onto the scabbed cut on Dib's lip before returning the container to his PAK. Then before he could do anything he would regret, Zim slipped back out of Dib's window and returned to his base.

***

"Sir—" as usual, the computer sounded bored, "—the doorbell has been pressed."

"Have the roboparents get it." He was busy; the Voot still needed repairs after the robot spider fiasco.

A minute of silence, then the computer spoke again.

"It's Dib. He's disabled the roboparents, sir."

"That wretched boy!" Zim shoved the goggles on his face up onto his forehead, dropping his electro-wrench back into his toolbox. "Show me!"

A monitor extended down from the ceiling, humming to life just in time for Zim to see Dib hop over the crumpled heap that was the disarmed roboparents, the boy nuisance looking determined and serious.

“Zim!” Dib called out, looking around. “Zim!”

“Where are GIR and Minimoose?” Zim demanded of the computer, hands on his hips in irritation. “Why are they not stopping him?”

“Something about the dog bowl ice cream challenge at McScoopy’s.”

“ARGH!” He had the most useless henchmen in the universe. “Tell him to go away, then!”

“My master says go away.” Zim watched the monitor as the computer relayed the message, sounding as uninterested as ever.

“Well, I’m not.” Dib crossed his arms defiantly, gaze zeroing in on the monitoring camera and staring at it determinedly. “Tell him to get his ass up here, I want to talk to him. Or let me go down, show me where he is.”

“Tell him I’m busy, and don’t have time for his meddling today!”

“Ugh, why don’t you just tell him yourself?”

“OBEY ZIM!”

“Alright, fine, jeez.”

Again the computer relayed the message, and this time a scowl spread across Dib’s face.

“Fine, I’m coming down there.”

The camera feed switched from the living room to the kitchen as Dib strode purposefully toward the trash can lift and raised the lid with a look of determination on his face.

“What is he doing? What are you doing!” Dib couldn’t hear him, and Zim watched with alarm as the human wedged one leg into the can.

“You’d better come talk to me, Zim! If I get stuck you’re either going to have to help me out, or leave me to die. I warn you, though, I’ll start to smell, and you’ll have gross, decomposing human just rotting away in your little elevator! Corpse juice will just drip down the sides, creeping into crevices and drawing all kinds of bugs. It’ll be really gross, Zim!”

Zim shouted in annoyance, ripping his goggles off his head and tossing them to the floor before heading to the lift that would pop up under the couch as Dib continued to ramble about the absolutely disgusting process of organic life decomposing.

“—and then the maggots will start worming out of my eyes, and—”

“Enough!” Zim stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, glaring at the stupid human with his leg still wedged in a trash can. “Enough of your incessant talking, pig-smelly! What do you want?”

Dib awkwardly wobbled as he lifted his leg out of the can gracelessly, then stepped toward him.

“Did you do this?” He pointed at his face, where there was a conspicuous lack of any signs there had been a dark bruise there yesterday.

“Do what? Make you ugly? You’ve always been that, Dib-stink.”

Dib gave a flat, unamused stare. “Har har. Did you heal my bruise?”

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, Zim, you tell me."

"You're wasting my time!" Zim waved his hand in annoyance, turning back toward the couch entrance to the labs. "My Voot is not going to repair itself."

"Wait! Can I help?"

“What? No!”

“I can help! I did work on Tak’s ship, remember? I can be useful.”

Zim turned to look at Dib skeptically, the human’s expression weirdly pleading.

“Why would you want to help me with something so trivial?”

“Why would you take the time to heal my eye?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not. Some _other_ alien snuck into my room to heal my black eye, how silly of me.”

“What other aliens do you know, Dib-stink? Let alone one clever enough to devise such a healing balm?”

“So you admit it was you!”

“I admit no such thing! GAH!” Zim threw his hands up in annoyed resignation. “If I let you help me, will you shut up about your eye?”

“Yes.”

“Fine!” Zim waved his hand again. “Don’t touch anything but what I tell you to!”

Dib immediately followed him to the lift, the two of them riding down in silence as Zim instantly regretted putting himself into close quarters with the distracting human. Why was he allowing this?!

“So what’s the plan?” Dib asked when they reached the hangar, and Zim’s damaged Voot.

“I knew it!” Zim pointed an accusatory finger. “You’re just trying to pry my next brilliant plan out of me!”

“I meant what’s the plan for fixing the Voot, not—hey wait! What brilliant plan? What are you up to now?!”

“None of your business!”

_“Zim!_ We took down your giant robot spider literally less than a week ago, can you chill on the evil plots for at least another week?”

“I do not take orders from stupid worm-babies! I will take whatever time I like to form my next plan, Dib-filth! Zim will take a day or an entire _year_ if I so chose!"

"Fine, then next time I'm waiting until whatever stupid thing you come up with squishes you before intervening to stop it! Take out two problems at once!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"FINE!"

Zim marched angrily back to his toolbox, scooping his goggles off the floor and grumbling to himself about meddlesome, stupid humans.

To his credit, Dib made a halfway decent assistant. Definitely better than GIR, and only better than Minimoose due to his opposable thumbs. Zim only had to call him an idiot three times, and though he would never admit it, Dib’s extra body mass came in handy when they had to dismount one of the thrusters.

They took a break after a few hours, Zim taking stock of the parts he’d have to craft or salvage to bring the ship back to functionality while Dib laid on the floor like a sweaty starfish. A sweaty starfish that Zim was trying very hard to not let affect him; especially when the human removed his trenchcoat, leaving him in just a t-shirt, his long arms all exposed.

“Have you thought about what I said?” Dib’s voice interrupted Zim’s thoughts.

Zim looked at him; Dib had sat up, leaning back on his hands and watching steadily as Zim tried to puzzle out what he could be referring to. They had barely spoken since they entered the hangar, what was he meant to have thought about?

“Eh?” he decided to grunt noncommittally.

“About inventing good things for Earth instead of trying to burn it all to the ground.”

Zim’s antennae flattened against his head, his mouth curling into a snarl. “What gave you the impression that I ever would?”

Dib sighed, looking disappointed. He stared at him for another beat before flopping back down, and Zim thought that was the end of this entirely silly conversation.

“We make a pretty good team, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“We make a good team. You and I. We always have.”

“No we most certainly have not.”

Dib sighed at the ceiling. “Why did you ask for my help with the robot spider, then?”

“Convenience. You happened to be there.”

Dib chortled humorlessly. “I’m trying to make a point, Zim.”

“And what point is that?”

“That we don’t have to fight, if you don’t try to take over earth. We could have a... truce, or something?”

_“Or something?”_

“Yeah, Zim, or something!”

_Or something_ was vague; vague and dangerous and made panic rise in his throat.

"No we cannot have a truce _or something!_ I AM ZIM! You are my archenemy! I will not be tossed aside by the likes of you!" Zim stomped up next to the human's freshly healed face, seriously considering returning the black eye with a kick to the head. How dare he suggest such a thing!

"Woah, time out!" Dib interjected, sitting up rapidly and holding his hands up in front of him, palms facing out in a pacifying gesture. "Who said anything about tossing you away? All I'm saying is that if you stop trying to destroy planet Earth, we wouldn't have to constantly be trying to murder each other. Maybe we could even work together, if you wanted to. Like... allies, maybe?"

"Allies? Disgusting!"

"UGH!" Dib threw his hands up in aggravation. "Fine, Zim! Whatever!"

He got up off the floor, swiping ineffectually at his limbs as the dirty floor left dark grime stuck to his clothes and the backs of his arms, his scowl pulling down the corners of his mouth.

"Hey!" Zim protested when Dib grabbed his coat, stuffing his arms into it as he headed back toward the elevator. "Where are you going?"

"Why would I stick around if the very idea of working with me is so repulsive to you?"

_"You_ were the one who insisted on helping!"

"Because I was hoping it would help with this!" Dib turned on his heel, indicating between the two of them sharply with his open hand. "That maybe it could be a gesture of good will between us or something! But if you're just going to turn around and use it to try to conquer earth, there's no way I'm having a hand in that! I'll stop you, Zim, like I've always stopped you!"

Dib turned again, set to storm off like the dramatic worm baby he was, and Zim really needed to work on his impulse to have the last word.

"I'm not conquering Earth anymore, you stupid pig-smelly!"

_That_ brought Dib up short.

Zim turned away when Dib about-faced again to look at him, suddenly embarrassed and angry and frustratingly, shamefully... sad.

"You're... not?"

"No."

Zim climbed into the cockpit of the Voot, staring at the dismantled control panel. He had been thinking about it since learning of Irk's defeat, trying to find some justification, some reason to carry on as he always had. Irken Invader Zim; on a special mission for the Tallest themselves, bound for honor and glory and exultation upon his victorious conquering of Earth and its miserable inhabitants. A mission made all the more challenging by his mortal enemy—the frustratingly perceptive Dib, who had always seen clearly through Zim's brilliant disguise, who worked his hardest to foil Zim at every turn.

Now his mortal enemy was looking at him solemnly, a mix of confusion and hesitant sympathy on his stupid, silly human face. His mortal enemy who smelled so good, who's tallness was so demanding of Zim's notice, who's intelligence Zim privately respected. A mortal enemy, it seemed, who didn't want to be his mortal enemy anymore. So where did that leave Zim? He had been counting on that, had been determined to work toward Earth's defeat if only for the satisfaction of knocking the smugness of confidence out of Dib's abnormally large head.

If he didn't have that, and he didn't have Irk, what _did_ he have?

Dib approached the Voot, and Zim picked up a circuit, checking it again for which wires would need replacing. He already knew, of course, but it was better than looking at Dib.

“Do you mean it?”

Zim inspected a wire between his fingertips.

“Zim.”

Again Zim didn’t answer, looking at another wire.

“Wait, are you leaving? Is that why you’re so eager to fix the Voot?”

Dib’s voice seemed weirdly anxious, drawing Zim’s attention back to the human’s face. There was a pinch between his eyebrows, his mouth in a solemn downturn, and if Zim didn’t know any better, he’d think the human was upset by the prospect.

“Wouldn’t that be celebratory news for you?” he asked instead of answering directly. “Victory for Earth?”

“I...” Dib fumbled, a bit of pink appearing on his cheeks. “I mean... I guess so.”

Zim returned his attention to the circuit, and Dib remained quiet for a few more moments, just standing beside the Voot, silent and unmoving.

_“Are_ you leaving?”

Zim sighed. “I don’t know.”

It was an option. He could return to Irk, be with his people, see what they might be doing to rebuild, if there was a new Tallest mounting an opposition to the Galactic United Republic. He probably should. He was a valued member of Irken society, after all, they would desire his input.

The thought made his squeedlyspooch feel like lead. Once he returned to Irk, there’d be no going back. All the information he had gathered pointed to the Galactic United Republic keeping a close eye on his home planet, which would make their potential return to power a very difficult struggle, and his chances of getting off world again extremely small. He was an invader without an empire to invade for, what would he do, trapped back on Irk?

Dib disappeared from his peripheral vision, and a moment later, he could hear the clank of tools being shifted around. He peaked out from the cockpit to see Dib returning to work on the open panel in the side of the Voot, looking grim.

Zim silently joined him.

***

He kept coming up with reasons not to leave. The controls in the cockpit of the Voot weren’t adequate anymore, he needed to salvage new ones. GIR was invested in a television show, he’d throw a fit if Zim tried to make him leave Earth before it was finished, and traveling back to Irk for months with a tantruming robot was too much of a bother.

He kept letting Dib come around to help him. He was useful, he justified to himself; that was all. It was nice to have a competent assistant for once, one who knew what tools Zim needed and was good with welding. He had steady hands and understood the Voot’s operating system surprisingly well for a human. It was advantageous to let him come around.

And letting him come around, even when there was nothing they could do with the Voot until Zim fashioned or bought a new part; well, that was just a good way to keep an eye on him. Dib couldn’t plot any annoying ways to steal Zim’s tech before he left if he was busily engaged with Zim and GIR’s television shows. The fact that Zim masturbated every time Dib left was inconsequential; that the human’s scent beginning to get ingrained in the couch made him horny every time he sat down. What the human didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Then, of course, Dib caught him.

The stupid idiot had left his phone, doubling back to Zim’s base when he realized he was without it. Of course he didn’t bother to _knock_ , either, just letting himself arrogantly through the front door like he owned the place.

They froze when they saw each other, Zim scrabbling upright from his guilty position; laying on his side on the couch, face turned to press into the cushion Dib had just vacated not ten minutes before, his pants shoved down to mid-thigh and splook in his hand.

"I...! I...!" Zim was never at a loss for words; he always had something to say, always ready with an insult or an order, always ready to take charge of any given situation. But the mortification and shame coursing through his body shocked all the words from his head in one fell swoop.

He didn't know what he was expecting; maybe for Dib to run, or to start shouting. What Dib did instead was cross the room, wedging himself between Zim's spread knees and rucking up the edge of Zim's tunic, his eyes as big as saucers.

"Let me see," he gasped, right before Zim was hit with a wave of Dib's pheromones that told him exactly how fast Dib had flown from zero to turned on by the sight of Zim touching himself.

It was a bit of a whirlwind after that; Dib's mouth and hands exploring him in ways Zim hadn't even imagined, discovering things Zim hadn't even been aware of himself. It was so fucking good Zim couldn’t see straight, clouding any inner voice that normally would have guilted him into remembering that he most certainly, definitely should not be doing this. Instead he just demanded _more_ ; more of Dib's mouth, more of his fingers, more, more, _satisfy me!_

He was satisfied twice over, and so was Dib, and he was left covered in his own come, with the human’s fluids inside his body, in a part of his body he didn’t even know existed until his not-really-an-enemy-anymore found it with his damnably curious fingers.

He needed time to think; he needed distance from Dib's scent and warmth and the evidence of what they had just done.

"Get out," Zim ordered. "Or I'm letting GIR eat you."

Miraculously, the human obeyed without a fight, rising from the couch and fixing his clothes.

"See you next time, Zim," he said.

"Absolutely not," Zim tried to insist. "This will never happen again, Dib-filth."

"Sure, Zim."

Insolent worm.

It took Zim another twenty minutes to get off the couch. His legs were sore from being spread for so long, and his entire nether region felt too sensitive for the idea of pulling up his pants. His antenna felt tingly too, the residue of Dib’s touch keeping the scent of his pheromones sharp and persistent.

With a sudden tremble that shivered down his spine, it all became too much; propelling him from the couch to get clean with a sense of urgency that made his blood-pump race.

It had taken some trial and error to get right, but he had eventually built a system that would purify and convert Earth’s filthy water into something he could use; mainly by removing the pollutants and pesticides that the humans were poisoning themselves with, and adding a high concentration of minerals and heavy metals to more adequately mimic the underground water supply they used on Irk.

It almost made him miss home; standing under the spray, letting the metallic tang of the water fall onto his tongue.

Maybe he should go home. Maybe back on Irk he wouldn’t have such a confusing emotional upheaval twisting in his guts; he'd return to the familiar, reestablish a sense of normalcy, escape the damn human boy who just couldn’t seem to stop tangling himself up in Zim’s life, and now, even worse, Zim’s body too.

Tentatively, trying not to think too much about it, Zim reached down between his legs to his now closed slit. He traced the seam with his fingers, from the top part that contained the familiar opening to his splook-sheath, to the far more intimidating, unfamiliar opening that Dib had found with his fingers.

Seemingly, now that his body wasn't thrumming with the desire to copulate, this particular opening wasn't terribly interested in parting for his exploration, and Zim's brief effort to do so resulted in a deep discomfort that made him grimace. He vehemently scowled a few moments later when he realized that its reluctance to open also meant that his body was apparently quite intent on keeping Dib's inferior human genetic material inside him, which was almost as infuriating as the fact that it was in there to begin with.

He shuddered with a little growl of irritation, cursing Dib and cursing himself for allowing the stupid human to touch him in such a way. Would Dib's body fluids make him sick? Would Zim's body treat it like a poison and eventually try to purge it? Would it _absorb_ it?

He felt less guilty for being oblivious to the existence of this part of his body the more he explored; without arousal, it was shut tight, nearly unnoticeable, and since he had never experienced arousal before coming to Earth was it any wonder that discovering it had surprised him?

The more he thought about it the more irate he became; at Dib, at himself, and even, much to his horror when he realized it—at the Control Brains and the Tallest. Dib had asked him if his people had some kind of Irken sex ed, and the answer was "no" because for all anyone knew, sex was something no modern Irken could ever or would ever want. Yet obviously, that was a lie, and the ignorance of his kind toward their own bodies had resulted in his humiliation under his former rival's hand.

"Computer!" He turned the water off and reached for a towel.

The computer sighed before answering. "Whaaaaat?"

"What's the percentage of completion on the Voot repairs?"

"Calculating... 98%. You need to finish installing the boost drive software and recalibrate the thrusters for Voot functionality."

He pulled on a fresh uniform, trying to ignore the shadow of the bruise on the inside of his thigh; the result of Dib's teeth.

"Good. Send GIR and Minimoose down to the hangar, and pack up the base."

"Wait... pack up the base?"

"Do not question Zim!" he barked, pointing an accusatory finger at the ceiling and absolutely denying the terrified, frantic beat of his blood-pump and the knot-like feeling in his squeedlyspooch. "Pack! Up! The base!"

"Yes sir. Beginning extraction procedures."


	2. Chapter 2

He couldn't do it.

He could see Irk through the front window of the Voot, faintly pink in color, its thin rings barely visible from this distance. He didn't dare get any closer, couldn't risk being spotted by the Resisty ships stationed throughout Irken space; just waiting for any reckless Irken to try to break free, or any off-world rogues like him that they could kick back to the planet's surface or recruit into the Galactic United Republic's service.

It was his duty to go home. It was his _duty_ to serve the Empire, to rejoin his people for what would inevitably be an uphill battle to regain their previous glory. He was their best invader, he was a beacon of the Irken race! They would want his brilliant mind going to work on the future of Irk and all its citizens.

But sitting in the cockpit of the Voot, GIR obliviously singing some made up song while Minimoose hoovered beside his head, Zim couldn't bring himself to brave the distance between himself and his home plant, fear and apprehension churning in his guts.

An outsider would observe that Zim was a master of repressing and denying things that he could not accept; that anything that threw a wrench into his plans or opinions was circumvented, denied, fought, "logic-ed" away by whatever excuse could fit it best or, if all else failed—deleted. Out of sight, out of mind, out of Zim's way.

The funny thing about repressing and denying and deleting, though, was that all those things never truly went away. That was the function of a PAK, really; to preserve an Irken's life and experiences for the growth of their species. So Zim may not have realized it, may not have actively been able to recall that suppressed memory to the forefront as the catalyst of his emotional state, but his subconscious certainly remembered his near-deletion. He could claim his existence evaluation had been a crowing success; it had resulted in a declaration of his incredibleness by the Control Brains, he had been permitted to pilot the Massive!

And yet... yet. The pain of the attempted deletion. The terror of being separated from his PAK, to be destroyed by his own people, forgotten, disgraced, _defective_ ; Zim may have erased it, may have tried to purge that moment of fear from his memory, but his body and his PAK did not truly forget.

So he stared at Irk, dread and apprehension sitting like a weight in his squeedlyspooch, that forgotten moment making him inexplicably fearful of facing the Control Brains again. So Zim did what he did best; he fabricated what he needed to hear.

"I can't go back," he said out loud. (GIR did not pause his song to listen, but Zim continued anyway.) "I can't go back empty handed! It would _crush_ all the adoring citizens of Irk, they looked to me as a master invader!"

"NEYA!" said Minimoose.

"I _know_ Irk is in no position to dominate Earth right now, Minimoose! It would be a waste of my _genius_ to invest further time and resources to such an endeavor! But what can I do?"

"NEYA?"

"Eh?! Are you honestly suggesting I do what _Dib_ wants me to do? Do you malfunction?!"

"NEEEEYAAAA!"

"Hm," Zim considered, tapping his chin with his finger thoughtfully. "That... is a good point, Minimoose. The humans _are_ insufferably stupid, if I introduce my _genius_ inventions to their sad, underdeveloped world, perhaps they could become tools of the Irken revitalization. They would be so enamored and grateful to the almighty ZIM that they could be commanded to aid Irk in its rise back to power! I AM AMAZING!"

Zim fist pumped the air in triumph before immediately putting the coordinates for Earth back into the navigation system. "PREPARE TO BOW BEFORE ZIM, FILTHY HUMANS!"

***

It occurred to him very rapidly during his journey back that there was one tiny little hiccup in his plan that would need to be ironed out.

Dib.

 _Dib._ That human always made things more complicated.

Zim had _tried_ to forget what had happened between them; he wanted very much to mean what he had said, that their little... _interaction_ before Zim left would not repeat. And if things couldn't go back to the way they were as enemies, at least they could return to the amiable truce that followed the spider robot incident.

The problem was that he kept doing the opposite of forgetting; he couldn't _stop_ thinking about what had transpired between them. The harder he tried to put it out of his mind, the harder it became to do so, making him go through humiliating bouts of arousal that he _refused_ to acknowledge, _especially_ in the company of GIR and Minimoose.

He just couldn’t help it. He had never felt anything like that before, not even when he used his own hand to achieve climax. It just all became _more_ when Dib had touched him; when the warmth of his body was pressed down against Zim, when Zim’s antennae could detect nothing but the onslaught of Dib’s hormones telling him exactly how excited the human was to touch him, to be inside him. Then the spike of scent that had signaled Dib’s orgasm, a surge of hormones and pheromones so delicious Zim could still recall it, could still recall what it felt like to tangle his antennae in the human’s hair to drown himself in it.

As if all of that wasn’t bad enough, by far the most conflicting, confusing feeling twisting his insides into knots was the fact that he was simultaneously, equally as anxious _about_ seeing Dib again as he was _to_ see him, which was a shocking revelation all on its own.

He, Irken Invader Zim, _wanted_ to see Dib Membrane. Wanted to see him in a way that made it feel like his chest organs were being pulled ahead of the Voot on their journey back to Earth. It was a realization that made him gasp out loud when it first dawned on him, his pulse beating rapidly in a mild panic. How had this happened? How had the presence of a meddlesome human become something he _desired?_ Something he _longed for?_

“Ugh! _DIB!_ ” Zim shouted his frustration out loud, tugging on his own antennae in confused irritation. “That _wretched human!”_

“I LIKE DIB!” GIR randomly chimed in. “He brings me Poop Cola Slushies!!”

“Be quiet! I’m thinking!”

“Diiiiib, Dib Dib Dib Dib, Diiiiiibbbb…!” GIR began to sing instead of doing what he was told.

“UGH, GIR, SHUT UP!”

GIR, of course, did not.

“UUUGGGHHH.” Zim let his head fall forward, thunking against the front windshield in exasperation.

He watched space whiz by as GIR continued to sing, and Zim continued to think.

Inevitably, his mind drifted away from the dilemma of how to handle the human once he returned to earth, and back to being reclined on the couch, Dib's mouth hot against his neck and his fingertips stroking up Zim's antennae.

The appendages twitched at the memory, Zim’s hands rubbing restlessly against his knees. The way Dib explored him, the thorough way he touched and reacted to Zim’s pleasure... Irkens didn’t touch like that. Irkens didn’t touch at all if they could help it, save for sparring or fighting, and maybe the occasional medical necessity. He shouldn’t want Dib that close, he should have been panicking at the feeling of the taller human over him, on top of him, should have recoiled from Dib’s hand and mouth wrapping around something so intimate as his splook. Instead he had wanted _more_ ; he still wanted more, and that same unease over his desires that had driven him to leave Earth on such short notice made him hug his arms around himself in anxiousness.

Despite his firm confidence that it was impossible, Zim circled back to his most troubling thought about the whole thing; was there something... wrong with him? He had ruled out sickness as the root of his strange physical reactions to Dib, so what if...

 _“No,”_ he muttered to himself firmly. “I am _Zim._ And Zim is amazing.”

Maybe there was something weird with Dib. He was, after all, the only human that caused such reactions in Zim. Maybe _he_ was the freak. Surely that was it. Dib was the one with something wrong with him, not Zim.

Still. Knowing Dib was a freak didn’t help him overcome the fact that he desperately, frustratingly, wanted the stupid human to touch him again. And the stupid human did too, if his parting words were anything to go by.

_"See you next time, Zim."_

“Arrogant worm,” Zim grumbled.

Zim sighed again with a little growl. His splook was aching, rubbing stiff and wet against the front of his pants the more he thought about being on that couch with Dib, and his thoughts traitorously drifted to the sensation of the human’s mating organ being inside him. It was almost overwhelming, the pressure and rub of the human’s thrusts sparking pleasure in his pelvis that ran up into his splook and spine. Rubbing his splook against the human’s belly as he moved just made it all increase exponentially until Zim had a second climax that was even more intense than the first.

It had also left him in the compromising position of being caught off guard when his body refused to let Dib go.

 _"I would ask how long this usually lasts, but clearly you don't know.”_ Dib’s snide remark had not helped, and Zim scowled at the memory. Stupid Dib and his stupid questions.

_"So Irkens don't usually have sex."_

_"No."_

_"But you decided to."_

_"I'm an invader. I can do whatever I want."_

Zim paused in his recollection. He had a point. He _was_ an invader. He was one of the last invaders still out there, far away from Irk. He _could_ do whatever he wanted. Who would stop him? Why _should_ he be stopped? Dib was a useful ally, he clearly liked making Zim feel good, and Zim liked feeling good. If he couldn’t experience the exaltation he so rightly deserved until Irk’s empire was back on its feet, why shouldn’t he indulge in this private little worship from Dib?

And who knew? Maybe Dib's freak allure could be useful. Weaponized, even!

“I deserve this,” he determined. “An Irken of my caliber, on such an important mission for Irk... I deserve this!”

He sat up straight with renewed confidence, one closed fist impacting against the open palm of his other hand. “I deserve this!”

***

After so many years of Dib living a small handful of blocks away, it was still strange to have to land his Voot in a completely different backyard in the middle of the night.

The human had moved out of his family home fairly rapidly once he hit adulthood; apparently, despite his distaste for being compared to his father, there was no denying their mutual knack for inventing had benefited Dib—the profits from several of his inventions and custom computer programs allowing him to comfortably purchase his own residence.

Zim's ship had barely touched down before the backdoor of the one-story house flew open with a bang, and Dib practically flew out of it.

It dawned on Zim that it must be later at night than he realized; the human was very clearly in pajamas, his long coat thrown hastily on top and his boots unlaced.

“HI MARY!” GIR shouted, entirely too loud and high pitched, waving his little hand frantically at the approaching human. Zim still had no idea why GIR called him that; the robot knew the human’s real name, he'd used it to refer to him more than once, but when addressing him, Dib was forever called “Mary” by Zim’s robotic assistant.

Admittedly, Zim had not been paying much attention to Dib’s expression as he approached; if he had, he might have noticed the angry pinch between his eyebrows and the tension in his shoulders long before the human reached them. As it was, he was more preoccupied with hopping down to the ground, straightening his uniform smartly and turning to face Dib with a satisfied grin. A satisfied grin that promptly disappeared when the angry human grabbed him, lifting him clear off his feet and pinning him very rudely against the side of his own Voot.

“Hey! UNHAND ME!”

“MARY! HI MARY! HIIIII!”

Dib ignored GIR, the scowl on his face focused on Zim even as the robot continued to yell hello over and over.

“You little twerp!”

“Eh?!” This was not how Zim imagined this reunion to go.

“You _left!”_

Zim looked at him in confusion. Dib knew Zim was planning on leaving; he had helped him with the Voot repairs, had spoken with Zim about the possibility.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you tell me! I come to your base and it’s suddenly an empty lot! No goodbye, no message, just _gone!_ And now you just show up here after _months_ of being gone like—”

“You knew I was planning to leave,” Zim finally verbally reminded him.

“Well! I mean! Yeah! But after…” Dib trailed off, his face suddenly becoming very pink, very rapidly.

Just as suddenly, he let Zim go, the jolt of his feet hitting the ground making his teeth clack together.

“Hey!”

“Nevermind,” Dib grumbled, looking away from him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. “Why are you back, then?”

“Hmph!” Zim straightened his clothes again with an annoyed frown, glaring at Dib as he crossed his arms. _“Because_ , pig-brain, I have taken your suggestion under consideration.”

Dib’s features twitched, his annoyance now tinged with confusion. “My suggestion?”

“About helping the human race. I have decided that it has more merit than I previously believed.”

Dib’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, which Zim considered an improvement from the grumpy frown. “What made you change your mind?”

“NEYA!” Minimoose suddenly chimed in, zipping to Zim's side.

"Yes, yes, fine. Minimoose convinced me. He's very persuasive, I must admit."

Dib's gaze went from Zim to Minimoose, then back again, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

"You really mean that? That you're back to help the human race instead of destroying us all?"

"Yes, Dib-smelly."

"MARY!" GIR obnoxiously screeched yet again, nearly falling out of the Voot with the intensity with which he was leaning out of it and waving. "HI MARY!"

"Please acknowledge him," Zim sighed, "or he'll never stop."

The corner of Dib's mouth quirked up a little, his gaze shifting to GIR before he spoke. "Hello GIR."

A squeal of happiness and GIR _did_ fall out of the Voot, clanking loudly on the ground and making Dib wince before the little robot hopped to his feet again and promptly threw himself at Dib's shins, hugging them tight as Dib gasped and wobbled precariously.

"We missed you! My Master missed you most, he kept talkin' 'bout youuuu, and lookin' out the window ALL SAD until we could finally see Earth, and—"

Zim's exasperation at GIR's persistent demand for acknowledgement from Dib flipped immediately to mortification at the words pouring out of the robot's mouth, so he yanked him away from Dib's legs in a panicked rush that nearly knocked Dib over.

"GIR, BE QUIET!"

"Why? Don't you want him to know how much you missed him?"

"I will deactivate you," Zim threatened quietly, glaring at GIR as embarrassment made sweat spring up on his temples and neck. "If you don't _stop. Talking."_

GIR looked at him blankly for a few moments, tongue poking out stupidly before suddenly smiling. "OKIE DOKIE!"

GIR squirmed out of Zim's grasp, squeakily beginning to do laps around the Voot instead.

He didn't want to. He knew already that Dib would have some stupid expression on his face, and Zim didn't want to see it. But it was either Dib or continuing to watch GIR run circles around the Voot.

He looked at Dib out of the corner of his eye, the human insufferably standing there with one arm crossed over his chest and his other hand held up by his mouth; very clearly trying to make it look casual instead of as a means to hide the smirk on his lips.

"Shut up!" Zim commanded.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You were thinking it! With your stupid smirky face!"

"You don't know what I'm thinking."

"How do _you_ know?"

That gave Dib pause, which filled Zim with a private little glee. It always was amusing, alluding to hidden abilities that Dib didn't know about.

A few beats of silence while Dib tried to figure out if he was bluffing, then the human gave him a disgruntled look.

"Shut up, you don't have telepathy."

"Even _I_ don't know all the amazing things I'm capable of, Dib-stink." Zim waved one hand airily. "Maybe I am."

“What am I thinking, then?” Dib challenged, staring at him with a raised eyebrow and both arms crossed.

“Easy! That your poor, meaningless life was bereft without Zim, and you’re elated by my return! Understood, human, I am a pinnacle of amazingness.”

Instead of rightfully agreeing, Dib sighed, and Zim was honestly surprised by the way his expression shifted into one of upset.

“That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be. I would never joke about my superiority, Dib-meat.”

 _“Zim.”_ Dib’s glare and clenched jaw made uneasiness bubble in Zim’s squeedlyspooch. “Just... why are you here?”

“I told you—”

“You told me why you came back to Earth, not why you’ve landed your Voot in my backyard.”

“Oh.” Zim tugged at his uniform again. “Are you sure? Surely I must have Dib, perhaps your feeble human memory—”

 _“Zim!”_ How the human could lace so much frustration into his name, Zim didn’t know.

“I told you, he missed you!” GIR suddenly chimed in; the robot was starting to flatten the grass in his circling around the Voot.

“GIR!”

“Is that actually true?”

Zim glared at his stupid robot assistant instead of Dib, crossing his arms.

“Of course not!” he huffed, his insides twisting a bit at the uncomfortable lie. “It’s because we have a prior appointment.”

“Huh?”

Zim looked at him expectantly. “When you left my base. You said, ‘See you next time.’ This is next time.”

“I remember you saying there would be no next time.”

“YOU LIE.”

"I'm not fucking lying!"

"Of course you are! The mere fact that I'm here is proof, Dib-stink, Zim never goes back on his word!"

"You literally do that all the time!"

"On the contrary, I believe that would be _you._ "

Dib floundered, mouth opening and closing a few times, his face increasing in pink color. A satisfied smirk spread over Zim's lips, shifting his weight to cockily jut his hip to the side.

"I...! That...! It's different! It's only when the world is in danger! Usually from you!"

"And what about the times when _our lives_ were in danger and you had no problem leaving me for dead?"

 _"We were enemies, Zim!_ And that's not what we're talking about right now! We're talking about the fact that you freaking took off without a word! And now, what? You're back for some kind of booty call?"

"I'm not calling you, Dib-idiot, I'm literally right in front of you."

Dib stared blankly at him for a moment, mouth doing that gaping thing again while irritation itched under Zim's skin. Why was he acting so stupid?!

"How, _how_ can you be here so long, go through the public school system, and still not know so many earth idioms?"

"Because I have better things to occupy my time with than learning moronic earth phrases!"

"Funny, since 'blending in' was one of your mission objectives, wasn't it? Ever occur to you that knowing more about human communication would help with that?"

"SILENCE, DIB-FILTH! BE SILENT! ZIM DOES NOT NEED YOUR STUPID, STUPID...!"

Oh this _human!_ Insufferable, horrible, insulting, _wretched,_ DIB!

Zim yanked on his antennae, scrunching his eyes closed and yelling wordlessly in frustration. Why did he bother? What possessed him to come back to this stupid boy; earth was an entire planet, he could resettle on it anywhere, far away from the infuriating, stupid Dib! No matter how good he smelled, how tall he was, he was so… so… vexing!

He turned away, grabbing GIR mid-sprint and throwing him back into the cockpit before climbing in after him.

"Wait!"

Despite the way Dib's hands grabbed hold of the Voot's cockpit opening, Zim was tempted to lower the windshield; it would serve the idiot right, getting his hands crushed.

"Where are you going?"

"Let go of my ship, Dib!" Zim’s fingers punched sharply at the controls, the Voot’s engine coming back to life as he prepared to take off.

“Don’t leave!” Dib gasped the plea so desperately it brought Zim up short. He looked up from the controls, glaring at Dib as the human’s knuckles paled with the strength of his grip. “Don’t leave Earth. Please.”

Zim hadn't really been considering it; he knew Earth was safe, he knew they were too underdeveloped and out of the way for the Galactic United Republic to reach out to them, or they would have already. Which meant that on top of already being familiar and comfortable to him, Earth was one of the least likely places he'd run into persecution. But with how annoying Dib was being, Zim nearly did so out of spite.

"I'm returning my base to its rightful place," Zim informed him, pinching the back of Dib's hands sharply to make him let go of the ship. "And you're not invited!"

"Zim, wait—!"

Whatever Dib was about to say, it was cut off when the cockpit windshield closed with a heavy _shhunk!_ sound, and a moment later, Zim guided the Voot skyward.


	3. Chapter 3

The fact that Dib didn't have more advanced security on his bedroom window was honestly a little baffling to Zim. In some ways the human was weirdly paranoid, but in others recklessly careless; and there didn't seem to be a pattern to what the human considered a worthy risk and what he didn't, as far as Zim could discern.

Either way, this particular oversight was advantageous to Zim, which meant he didn't question it too thoroughly.

So four days after returning to Earth, he sat on Dib's windowsill, watching the human breathe slowly in sleep.

Over the last three days, Dib had attempted no less than six separate attempts to get to Zim's front door, which had resulted in fourteen painful zaps from the guard gnomes to keep him at bay.

It had been amusing, he had to admit, watching the gangly earth boy yelp and try to dance away from the gnome-fire. A petty little revenge for Dib's utterly annoying behavior on the night of Zim's return.

To think that he had made _Dib_ his first stop back on Earth. The foolish worm didn't deserve such an honor.

He should have been happy to see Zim! He should have dropped to his knees with overwhelming elation! Instead he had the nerve to be angry! To squabble and nitpick! It would have served him right, if Zim had never allowed the stink-boy near him again.

The problem was that GIR was, in fact, correct. Zim would never admit to that in a million years, but it was nevertheless true; Zim had missed him. And being back on Earth just intensified the feeling, until the idea of staying locked in his house for even one more minute made him feel sure he'd go mad.

Which brought him to Dib's window, and once again watching the Earth boy sleep.

This time around, he allowed himself to be curious, and looked more closely at Dib's room.

Unlike his childhood room that Zim was vaguely familiar with, there was no desk, which Zim assumed meant that he had a separate work space elsewhere in the house. What _was_ in the room was the large bed where Dib was sleeping, a bedside table, a tall dresser, a wall of bookshelves, and an overstuffed armchair. There was also a Mysterious Mysteries poster and a painting of a galaxy hanging on the walls, as well as glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling.

It was all very Dib; the furniture was modern looking, all in shades of black and gray, and the posters and glowing stars just reinforced the utter Dib-ness of it all.

And as loathe as he was to admit it, the overwhelming Dib-scent of the room was like a drill right into the pit of longing in the center of Zim's chest.

He breathed through his open mouth as his antennae flicked rapidly through the air, the dual reception of Dib's scent in his mouth and his antennae making him shiver, his blood-muscle pumping with increasing rapidness.

 _Tallest_ he had missed that scent.

He let his eyes close, drinking it in for a long moment, and temporarily ignoring the warm ache of desire beginning to grow between his legs.

Then he picked up on something rather interesting.

Zim opened his eyes, his antennae twitching curiously. With a glance at Dib—who was breathing slow and heavy and definitely still deeply asleep—he moved quietly from the window and toward the source of the scent. He found it in Dib's dresser, buried at the bottom of his lowest drawer.

The scent was... him. Them, to be more precise. It was the shirt Dib had been wearing when they had been intimate all those months ago; it had definitely been laundered, but judging by the fact that Zim's scent was still deeply ingrained in the fibers, he had a feeling Dib had not worn it since. He didn't give much thought to the reason why that might be, because honestly he was far too enamored with how incredible it was to his scent receptors to bother.

Incredible enough that he didn't even think before burying his face in the fabric with a quiet moan that he was almost immediately embarrassed about. Not embarrassed enough to stop, mind you, but enough that his squeedlyspooch tied itself in a flustered knot in his belly.

He didn't have many scent receptors in the nasal pores between his eyes (optimal for dealing with most gross Earth scents, he had found) but when paired with his antennae, Zim's senses could detect far more than any human could dream of. And right now he was detecting _so much._

The detergent Dib used to wash it, of course, but that paled in comparison to Dib's scent; so worn into the fabric that even the months since it had been on his body had not faded it away. But it was more than just usual Dib-scent; it was that overwhelming cocktail of hormones and pheromones that he had sweated into the fibers so thoroughly that both washing and time had not erased it.

Then what really got its hooks into him, what made Zim press his face harder into the still-folded shirt with a shiver, was the fact that _his_ scent was still there; his scent, his pheromones, his hormones, his _orgasm._ He didn't know if Dib's human senses were strong enough to detect any of it, but Zim could; and the blend of the two of them, the evidence of their tryst in this simple piece of clothing was making his whole body feel hot and needy like he was right back on that couch, right back to being under Dib and feeling like he was going to shake apart with urgency.

It was mad; it was truly, stupidly mad, but he was seized by the need to be surrounded by those scents—to envelope himself in them. He had been trying so hard not to think about it—he had spent so much time over the last few months attempting to erase the whole incident from his brain—yet here he was, blood running so hot and splook aching so fiercely just from pressing his face into Dib’s stupid shirt, and he wanted _more._

He dropped it for a moment, hands going to the back of his collar and pulling; the fabric separating down the back just as it was designed to, parting around his PAK and allowing him to slip his tunic down his shoulders and to the floor, along with his gloves. Then he was sliding Dib’s shirt over his head instead, the foreign fabric feeling strange but soft against his skin.

The hem of the shirt reached his knees, and what were regular short sleeves on Dib became three-quarter sleeves on Zim. He briefly lamented, not for the first time, that he had no idea why he had allowed the human to get so tall; perhaps if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t be in his current predicament.

But he was, and turning his gaze to Dib's long, tall body stretched out on the bed didn't help with the ache between his legs. _How_ was the human still asleep?! How did he have such little sense of self-preservation that he allowed his room to be so easily broken into, allowed just anyone to stand over him while he was useless and vulnerable?

His sense of outrage at Dib's stupidity mixed strangely with his arousal, a new kind of flame awakening in his belly and driving him toward the bed. He reflected on the last time he had stood over Dib's sleeping body; being so careful and stealthy, meticulously spreading healing balm over the human's eye.

This time, however, keeping Dib from waking was not in his plans.

The fabric of the shirt made a ripping sound when his PAK legs tore through it, making Zim wince and curse for forgetting. (Whatever; Dib hadn't been wearing it anyway.)

Still the Earth boy didn't stir, making another drip of annoyance bubble in Zim's guts as he used the leverage of his mechanical legs to climb easily onto the bed.

It wasn't until Zim's pelvis landed heavily on Dib's, his knees on either side of Dib's hips, that the human finally woke with a startled gasp.

At least the idiot's reflexes had improved over the years; hands immediately striking up in an attempt to dislodge the Irken in a bout of fight or flight. Zim, however, had the advantage of being both completely awake and prepared, as well as superior vision in the dark room, making it laughably easy to combat Dib's pathetic attempt at self-defense.

"You know I could have killed you ten times over by now?" Zim informed him in a snarl, PAK legs pinning Dib down by the wrists and knees as Zim's fingertips dug sharply into his chest, the human freezing with a gasp. "Your security is practically nonexistent, and your rest cycle is so deep a sehlat could disembowel you and I don't think you'd even notice until your guts flopped out!"

_"Zim?!"_

"You're _lucky_ it is Zim! _Lucky_ that I didn't realize how poor your defenses were years ago and slaughter you in your sleep!"

Dib was panting, tense and uncertain under him, eyes uselessly wide, trying to make out Zim's shape in the dark room. It was strange to see him without his glasses, his eyes seeming a little smaller without the lenses in front of them.

"What... what _are_ you going to do to me, then?"

A slow grin spread over Zim's mouth, and it was truly a shame Dib's pathetically ineffectual vision couldn't see it.

"Everything I deserve, Dib-slave."

The tremble and gasp that shivered through Dib's body was like a vibration through the air that Zim could taste; or maybe that was the flood of hormones coming from him, along with the way Dib's mating flesh suddenly began to thicken and stiffen between his legs, pressing up against the fabric of his sleep shorts noticeably.

Admittedly, the last time they had done this had rendered Zim a bit... overwhelmed. It was all so intense, all so new, all so... _much_. And the minute Dib had put his hands on him the human had taken the reins, which—while quite satisfying in the moment—had not left Zim much opportunity to reciprocate in exploration. He was about to amend that.

His PAK legs kept Dib securely pinned as Zim's hands rucked up the hem of the human's shirt, hearing him gasp again before letting out a soft, "Fuck."

Zim was not completely ignorant of human biology; he had run his fair share of experiments on them through the years, not to mention taking a human anatomy class in high skool, so it wasn't like Dib had anything unexpected. His chest expanded and contracted with each panted breath, twenty-four ribs caging the two delicate air sacs known as Dib's lungs (Zim vaguely wondered what they looked like since the last time he had seen them). He knew the anatomy; he knew there was a four-chambered heart safely tucked behind Dib's sternum, he knew the soft abdomen contained far too many digestive organs, human bodies a truly strange amalgamation of individual function instead of the clearly superior, seamless work of Zim's squeedlyspooch.

All this he knew, but it still didn't change the novelty of getting to run his hands over Dib's pecs, the human's nipples fascinating little discs that poked slightly against his palms. (Mammals... such odd creatures.)

"You're not wearing your gloves!" Dib's shock made Zim pause, his gaze tracking up to Dib's face as he scratched experimentally through the sparse chest hair along his sternum, the human's expression a strangely endearing mix of dumbfounded and enraptured by the realization.

Zim wasn't sure how to respond to that. It wasn't a question, nor was Dib giving him any indication that he wanted Zim to stop; it was simply a declaration, a surprised observation.

"And?" he settled on asking.

Somehow, Dib's face seemed to get a little more flushed. "I... I've just never seen your hands before."

"You're not seeing my hands now, Dib-meat," Zim reminded him, confident that Dib couldn't make out more than a dim shadow of Zim's outline in the dark room. "You're feeling them."

Zim accentuated his point by dragging his palms down Dib's abdomen, the muscles under Dib's skin tensing and jumping as the human squirmed with an unsteady breath. Zim inched his way down slowly, keeping it light at first, teasing, until the temptation to dig his claws into the soft flesh of Dib’s lower belly could not be resisted.

Dib rewarded him with a hiss, trying fruitlessly again to twist his wrists out from under Zim’s PAK legs as his hips bucked and squirmed most deliciously.

“What do you think, Dib?” Zim asked him, digging his claws a little harder, a little sharper into the vulnerable flesh; a millimeter more of pressure and he’d break skin—he was looking forward to it.

“Don’t stop.”

This _human._ He was always so keen to run headfirst into danger, wasn’t he? Well, Zim was more than happy to oblige.

“Ah!”

The scent of human blood was sharp and metallic; Zim always marveled at how much metal these meatsacks carried around in their bodies, considering how few of them actually had mechanized components intertwined with their organic. Dib was no exception, the hot liquid leaking from the thin claw marks in Dib’s lower belly making the tips of Zim’s fingers red. Of course, he’d felt Dib’s blood before, he had been the source of its escape from Dib’s body more times than he could recall, but never like this; never so willingly, never with the scent of arousal mixing so thoroughly with the smell of a wound.

By the _stars,_ if he thought he was turned on before, it was nothing compared to what Dib’s submission to pain was doing to him now. For a brief moment he was embarrassed, humiliated by the slick he could feel collecting between his legs and along his splook, but then Dib’s hips gave a sudden, sharp jerk up between his thighs as the human gave the most delicious, breathy whine Zim had ever heard. Zim wanted to eat that sound right out of his mouth.

It filled him with a sudden sense of urgency, of desperation, his pants and boots abruptly feeling too tight and too hot, he needed them off _now_ , now now now!

Zim swiftly stood, feet planted on the mattress on either side of Dib’s hips and his PAK legs still firmly keeping the human pinned. He ignored the sound of frustration Dib gave him, squirming and writhing under him while Zim hurriedly removed all of his remaining clothing save for Dib’s poor, punctured shirt. Then all that remained between him and Dib’s ridiculously stiff mating organ was Dib’s thin sleep shorts.

He sank back down to his knees, both hands going to the waistband and giving an abrupt, downward tug that made Dib hiss, squirming again as Zim was finally able to take his first proper look at the flesh between the human's legs.

It was almost funny, how intimate he had already been with this aspect of Dib's body, yet he hadn't properly _looked_ at it until that moment. Strangely, its appearance didn't seem as big as it felt, which was certainly a phenomenon he would have to explore and quantify at some point. A point most certainly in the future, as the present demanded that he stop _observing_ and start _experiencing._

"Fuuuck..." Zim's hand closing around Dib's shaft made the human curse, a shiny bead of fluid leaking from the tip. It made him notice that the human's flesh didn’t get slick all over like Zim's splook did, which he found to be quite curious; thankfully, the mysterious opening between Zim's legs was more than ready to compensate, wetness dripping down his thighs, the channel hot and aching to be filled.

A small shift in the position of his knees and he did just that.

Their mutual cries at the sensation drowned out the wet sound of Zim's pelvis impacting against Dib's; a sound that would have made Zim shudder from its lewdness were he was not so thoroughly distracted.

“God, how do you feel so _good,_ what the _fuck.”_

It was a question that could have just as easily left Zim’s mouth rather than Dib’s; it didn’t make sense, they shouldn’t even be compatible, but there was no denying the tingling pleasure racing through his pelvis at the thick, hot intrusion. It was even better than Zim remembered; all it took was a subtle tilt of his pelvis as he rose and fell over Dib’s hips for him to find that perfect spot that had made him see stars when Dib had so thoroughly rubbed it with his fingers all those months ago.

“You filthy human,” he meant for it to come out as a growl, rather than the whine it ended up becoming, his fingertips digging fresh little wounds in Dib’s lower belly, “your filthy hormones, your filthy fluids, _ugh!_ I hate you!”

Why was it so attractive, seeing Dib squirm and twist under the hold of his PAK legs, his back arching, his strange skin far too pink, his wet mouth open and panting obscenities? It didn’t make _sense,_ it should have been revolting, not make his splook throb and gush.

“Zim—” He had _never_ heard Dib say his name so breathlessly, it was almost fucking reverent. “—god, please, I can’t—”

“Shut up!” He didn’t care what Dib could or couldn’t do; Zim needed _release_ and he was going to _get it._ He hadn’t spent months trapped in a Voot with GIR and Minimoose without a shred of privacy to be denied that now, especially by _Dib._

Dib, who suddenly made a strangled sound so _visceral_ that for a brief moment Zim wondered if the human was about to perish.

“You revolting worm!” was all his foggy brain could think to hiss when all of a sudden he felt liquid heat; the stupid human flooding him with his disgusting genetic material, hips jerking, chest shuddering, looking half delirious as each spasm of his length pushed more of his mating fluid inside Zim’s already over-wet channel. He was set to be furious; this human _dared_ to find satisfaction before Zim? This human _dared_ to dump his inferior human DNA inside Zim’s body without permission, _again?!_ This human dared to—

The flood of pheromones that reached his antennae a moment later stopped his anger in its tracks; by the _tallest,_ how, _how_ had he forgotten how intense this was, how had he forgotten the way Dib’s orgasm permeated every molecule of the air, the way that scent reached inside him and squeezed his squeedlyspooch like a vise until he could barely draw breath.

He didn’t think about why his hand came away from Dib’s abdomen wet, about the haphazard little smears of the human’s blood on his palm; all that was left in his head was desperation and need, the demand of the ache between his legs clouding everything else as he took his splook into his grip with a whine.

They’d both have bruises from the force of Zim’s hips thrusting down onto Dib’s, of that there’d be no doubt, and Zim would take spiteful satisfaction with the fact that his would be healed before the sun even rose. But that was the furthest thing from his mind as he moved, hand squeezing tight and rough around his splook, wet sound of his stroking matching the wet sound of his thrusting until pleasure peaked like a wave; wringing all the breath from his air sacks, locking his whole body so tight he shook as spurt after spurt of clear, thin liquid pulsed from the tip of his splook and his channel squeezed around Dib so tight it made his whole pelvis ache.

Why why _why_ was it so much better like this? When he was alone, when it was only his own hand to stimulate him, his release was never this long, never this consuming, never this mind-clouding. Why did having Dib inside him turn it into a small eternity of pleasure, keeping him high on a plateau of sensation until he became afraid he would expire?

"Zim..."

The only thing keeping him upright were his PAK legs, his organic body heavy and weak, the spasms and shivers shaking through him reminding him _very acutely_ of the involuntary, inconvenient tightening of his inner muscles that apparently would keep Dib’s mating organ inside him until his body decided Dib had served his reproductive purpose.

“Zim.”

Zim grimaced slightly; there were beads of sweat tickling his thighs uncomfortably, as well as his neck and chest.

_“Zim.”_

Dib’s small thrash knocked Zim forcefully off of cloud nine and back to himself, both hands hurriedly bracing against Dib’s very messy abdomen as he glared daggers at the human pinned under him.

_“What?!”_

“You’re hurting me, can you ease off the PAK legs?”

Now that his attention was drawn to it, he did notice Dib’s hands were tinting toward purple, indicating that the blunt press of the edge of his PAK legs were cutting off the circulation of blood to his appendages. Admittedly, there was a part of him that was amused by the idea of a handless Dib, but the benefits of allowing the human to walk away from this mostly undamaged was higher than the fleeting reward of his suffering.

Slowly, in case Dib tried any funny business, Zim allowed his PAK legs to shift from the human’s hands and knees to the mattress, still using their support to keep himself steady. In return Dib breathed a sigh of relief, slowly bringing his hands down to rest on his chest as he flexed his fingers to get his blood flowing again.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Zim didn’t bother to reply. Which just left silence, apart from their still-panting breathing.

Zim knew what would happen, he knew that he would regret it, but he stubbornly still tried it anyway; focusing his concentration on trying to rise up off of Dib’s mating organ with what little strength he could force into his thighs. The resulting spasm and pain made them both hiss, Dib’s hands clumsily reaching for his hips and pulling him sharply back down, setting off a chain reaction of tight contractions in his channel that seemed designed to punish him for daring to try such a foolish thing. And if the whimpers and squirming were anything to go by, Dib was as equally unpleased by Zim’s attempt to separate them.

“Stay,” he hissed, moaning a moment later when Zim’s muscles gave another rippling squeeze that made his whole body tense up.

When Zim could breathe again, he gave a derisive chuff, shifting slightly more upright astride Dib’s pelvis, shifting his weight and squeezing his knees against Dib’s sides as he let his head loll backwards, his face turned to the ceiling.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Dib-stink, I don’t physically have another choice.” Appropriately, his point was emphasized by another hard squeeze of his inner muscles, making them both tremble and moan.

“Yeah, no duh, space boy.”

“Be quiet!”

Dib huffed at being silenced, but did in fact remain blissfully quiet after that, a time Zim used to take stock of his body. His splook was relaxing, slipping slowly back inside its sheath, and the underside of his thighs were aching from being bruised against Dib’s sharp hip bones. He felt tacky; between the sweat on his skin and the blood and ejaculate all over his hands, he was longing for shower back at his base. Dib’s shirt would have to do for now; it was ruined anyway, so he picked up the hem to wipe his hands as best he could.

Dib jumped slightly when Zim released the fabric a minute later, the shirt falling back down and brushing the human’s legs and lower belly as it hung loosely around Zim’s small frame. The bottom of the shirt was definitely worse for the wear; wet now from Zim wiping his hands on it and hopelessly wrinkled to boot.

He watched Dib’s eyebrows pinch together, his hands shiftly slightly from Zim’s hips to take the fabric between his pointer finger and thumb and rub curiously at it.

“This isn’t your uniform.”

Zim forgot for a moment that Dib’s pathetic human eyesight was too poor to see the obviousness of that statement, nor was it good enough to see the look of annoyance on Zim’s face.

“No, human, it is not.”

Dib’s brows furrowed further, hands curiously moving upward against Zim’s sides, clearly trying to discern any clues from the texture of the fabric. Zim wasn’t sure why he let him, really; perhaps he could blame it on the pheromones still permeating the air, keeping him feeling hot and foggy-headed and far too accepting of Dib’s stupidly big hands touching him.

Then Dib’s fingertips traced the ragged edge of one of the punctures through the back of the shirt, brushing against the protruding PAK leg, and until that moment, Zim had no idea that a touch to one of his mechanical components could feel so damn intimate.

He pushed the touch away at the same moment Dib gasped, looking up at him with eyes wide in the darkness.

“Is that my shirt?”

“No.”

“Shut up, it absolutely is.”

“No. Be quiet.”

To Zim’s horror, Dib reached for the light on his bedside table, attempting to turn it on until Zim frantically pinned his wrist back down against the bed with a PAK leg. “Don’t you dare, Dib-thing!”

The cocky smirk that pulled up the corner of Dib’s mouth made Zim growl, glaring uselessly at the human until he let his arm go limp in submission to Zim’s will.

“I...” Dib’s expression suddenly shifted, cocky grin dropping off to a frown. “Dammit, I don’t know whether to be pissed that you ruined one of my shirts or turned on that you’re wearing something of mine.”

Zim didn’t know how to respond to that, heat flushing unexpectedly through his belly at the human’s statement.

“I... well, it’s not yours anymore, earth boy!” he sputtered. “It’s mine now, you weren’t even wearing it.”

“Just because it’s not actively on my body doesn’t mean it’s not mine!”

“Semantics,” Zim waved his hand dismissively. “It’s still mine now.”

Dib huffed, and Zim let him twist his wrist out from under Zim’s PAK leg. _“One,_ Zim. You can have this _one_ shirt.”

“As if you have a say.”

Dib opened his mouth, annoyance etched into every feature, before suddenly freezing. Then before Zim could do much besides mildly panic that something had broken in the human’s brain skull, Dib gave a laugh, rubbing both hands against his face.

“Jesus, is it fucking nuts that I’ve missed this? Missed bickering with you?”

It was absolutely unacceptable that Dib had left him momentarily speechless twice in the span of a handful of minutes. Even more unacceptable was that his first instinct was to completely sympathize; he had missed this too.

Instead he scoffed, crossing his arms as his antennae flicked back. “Yes, Dib-stink, you are completely insane, but that’s nothing new.”

Instead of denying it or getting angry, as Dib had always done when someone insisted he was crazy, Zim was startled to find Dib laughing again, his hands dropping from his face to find Zim’s hips, the human again tracing his long hands up Zim’s sides.

“Yeah,” Dib muttered. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

That was the last straw; Dib, of all people, was not allowed to agree with him! It... it was against their very natures, or something!

This time, when Zim moved to lift his hips, his body was relaxed enough to allow Dib to slip out of him, which made the Irken sigh in relief. That was enough of Dib for one night.

He shifted to the side, sitting on the edge of Dib’s bed and trying to decide whether he trusted his organic legs to hold him just yet when Dib’s hand reached for him again, closing his hand in a fistful of Zim’s shirt.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Wha—wait a second!”

Dib reached for the light again, and again Zim deflected him; he couldn’t explain it, couldn’t understand why, but the thought of Dib turning on the light—of illuminating the undeniable mess they both were—made fear claw through his chest like a filthy earth rat.

“Touch that light and I’ll liquify your organs one at a time.”

That, at least, was enough to draw Dib up short, staring unseeingly at Zim in the still-dark room before withdrawing his hand from the bedside table lamp and sitting up.

“Don’t leave.”

“What are you talking about, of course I’m leaving! You really expect me to stay covered in these revolting sex fluids all night?” Zim shuddered at the very thought. _“You_ might not mind filth, pig-smelly, but I do.”

Zim couldn’t keep up with Dib’s fluctuation emotions; one moment the earth boy looked desperate and upset, and the next he was flustered, awkwardly looking away from Zim’s direction and busying himself with fixing the waist of his sleep shorts and tugging his shirt back down, despite the mess on his stomach.

“Oh...” Dib’s voice sounded very small. “You’re not like... leaving the planet, then?”

“What? No! I told you, I changed my mind about that. I’m going home to my _house_ you idiot.”

“Oh. I just thought... you’ve been ignoring me for three days.”

“Dib-stupid, if I was leaving again I would have already done it. I would not have wasted my time on your disgusting planet for three days just to come through your window, mate with you, then take off.”

“God, please don’t use the phrase ‘mate with you,’ that sounds so weird.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Fucking, Zim. I’d call what we just did fucking.”

 _“Fine,_ I would not have come in through your window to do the fucking with you, then take off. Better, you ridiculous worm baby?”

“That’s not—you know what, nevermind.” Dib flopped back down onto his back, a long breath leaving his lungs and his eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Zim took this as his cue; hopping down off the bed with the help of his PAK legs to gather his things from the floor.

He made it all the way to the window, clothes folded into a neat little stack tucked under his arm, before Dib spoke again.

“I’m... glad you’re back, Zim. It wasn’t the same without you.”

Zim paused, a hand on the sill as he looked back to find Dib’s eyes on him, undoubtedly able to see his silhouette against the light-polluted sky outside his window.

“I’m sure you are, human. I’m sure you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://my-squeedily-spooch.tumblr.com)


End file.
